


Yellow

by kaige68



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Community: 1_million_words, Hulkeye - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-23
Updated: 2013-06-23
Packaged: 2017-12-15 22:35:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/854759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaige68/pseuds/kaige68
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What is Bruce afraid of?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yellow

**Author's Note:**

> Written for my Yellow bingo square at 1_million_words. Huge thanks to every there for the cheerleading!
> 
> Disclaimer: If I owned it, it would have been in the movie!  
> Beta: Read through by sharpiesgal. All remaining mistakes are mine alone. Con-crit is appreciated, and corrections are helpful.

Hawkeye smirked and leaned against the bulkhead with a cocky negligence. “What are ya? Yella?”

“ _Yella?_ Really?” Bruce rolled his eyes, arms crossing his chest, defensively.

“I can get away with it. I’m from Iowa. You should stick with pronouncing the double-u.” Clint raised an eyebrow. “Does deflecting usually work for you?”

“Yes, Hawkeye, it does.” Bruce huffed, letting his arms drop to his sides and leaned forward just a bit. “Most people who know me don’t push me.”

An unfazed “Clint, you should call me Clint.” was the response.

Bruce turned and left.

~*~*~

“You know,” Clint’s voice surprised Bruce. He hadn’t heard the archer come in the room, let alone felt him invade Bruce’s personal space. But suddenly every part of his being was aware of just where Clint was. “I wouldn’t be the person I am, if I gave up easily. I’m used to putting in … long... hard... hours to achieve the goals I want.”

Bruce stared at his work surface seeing nothing at all. “Goals?” It took a lot of effort to get the single word out without any tremble in his voice.

“World’s Greatest Marksman.” Clint moved back gesturing wide. “Doesn’t just happen. It’s hard work and dedication to a goal.”

Bruce smirked comfortable with the space between them finally. “It’s a competition? You have an event every year? Is there a belt?”

“Not per se.” Clint’s eyes narrowed but stayed amused.

“I’d think as a sniper for a secret government program you wouldn’t be able to compete.”

“Maybe I wear a disguise.”

“Right.” The smile reached beyond Bruce’s lips and light up his eyes. “You dress as a hero, saving the little people.”

“You’d be surprised how popular the theme is at archery competitions.”

“I still picture you as much more of a skin-tight leather _look at me_ kind of guy.”

Clint knocked on the table and turned to leave calling over his shoulder. “Good to know you’ve been picturing me in skin-tight clothes.”

~*~*~

Bruce stood still filling up the doorway to the long-term patient room in the medical unit at SHIELD. Clint was pale, hooked up to a multitude of monitors, and unconscious. Bruce stared not able to move until some part of his brain registered that he should move forward.

He picked up the charts taking in the numbers and readings. Clint was stable, but only in the last few hours. His transport from ~~location redacted~~ had been touch and go. 

Bruce felt himself growl.

“Doctor Banner?” The polite yet firm voice sounded behind Bruce. Telling him with just two words that he had no place looking at Clint’s medical history or even checking up on the man.

“Agent Coulson,” He returned the paperwork to the foot of the bed and faced Phil. “I hadn’t seen Hawkeye in a while and JARVIS told me he was here.”

“I was unaware that you were Agent Barton’s emergency contact. Or that Mister Stark had hacked into SHIELD’s mainframe again, but I’ll be sure to see both matters are corrected.”

“I’m not...”

“No, you’re not.” Phil looked comfortable grilling Bruce and had no fear of The Other Guy. “He would have told me if you were.”

“You two are close?” Bruce tried for casual as he gestured between Clint and his handler.

“We aren’t romantically involved, if that’s what you’re asking.” The man didn’t even flinch. “But we work close enough that I know who he lists on his paperwork.”

It was strange to Bruce that Coulson wasn’t actually kicking him out. That he was relatively accepting of Bruce’s concern.

“He’s been flirting with you for some time now, hasn’t he?”

“Took me a while to catch on, but yes, he has been.”

“And you... think the flirting evolved enough that you should have been notif-”

“I missed him. That was all. I was thinking about him and said something to JARVIS.” Bruce met Phil’s eyes. “I didn’t...”

“You missed him?”

“I did.” Bruce inhaled slowly as if daring Phil.

“I’ll tell the team to keep you updated about him.” Coulson smiled slightly and closed the room’s door as he left.

~*~*~

“Here.”

“Yoga pants and a ‘Namaste’ tank top.” Bruce looked at the clothes Clint had handed him. “Is it my birthday?” The humor didn’t reach his eyes. He stood in the rubble he probably created and dressed himself in the stretchy clothes.

Clint had turned his back in a surprising gesture. “There was part of a clothes line, that was the best of what was left.”

“You know, if the woman who owns them recognizes these, she’s going to be pissed that I can fit into her clothes.” 

“The majority of her apartment building is crumbled around Hydra’s latest world domination robot. That you are wearing her workout clothes should be the bottom of her list.”

There was a pause for a moment as Bruce struggled with the clingy pants.

“That or she should enjoy the view. Wow.”

Bruce looked up and caught Clint staring appreciatively. “We just saved the world, Thor is probably already searching out a keg, while Tony and Steve have the adoring public fawning all over them, and I get...” He gestured to his teammate.

Clint threw an arm over Bruce’s shoulder. “And you get me, and really tight gym clothes. I hate to quote Cap here, but you’ve got the world on a string!” Then he laughed dragging Bruce along to where SHIELD would pick them up.

~*~*~

“Yes.” Clint smiled.

“It’s just dinner.” Bruce clarified.

“Then, no.” His face fell. Not too disappointed, not too upset, just fell from the smile he’d just shown Bruce.

“No?”

“I don’t like the _just_. Like you think we have to go to separate corners as soon as the food is cleared. It’s not _just_ dinner. It’s dinner with me, Bruce. It’s dinner with you. Don’t _just_ it.”

“Look, it doesn’t have to be a production. Order take out, make something yourself, or have Tony’s team of chefs spend hours cooking. We’ll eat in front of a television, watch some movie that neither of us have seen because we’ve been … us. We talk, we eat, we’re occupied. But it’s not _just._ ”

Clint’s phone beeped with a text message that Bruce knew was Fury. His eyes pleaded with Bruce a bit as he backed toward the door.

“Yeah, okay.” Clint smiled again and left Bruce was still a little shocked that he’d asked before Clint did.

~*~*~

Clint snored.

Bruce smiled.

It was kind of sweet, in a way that Bruce knew would not stay, but new things were like that before they got old.

Dinner had been postponed by AIM. They’d reheated the Thai food when they got back. Clint had deemed it necessary that they stick to their plan as much as possible. _Take the time while we’ve got it._ They’d sat comfortably in front of that Star Trek remake - AU - whatever. Clint was struggling to stay awake before the first red-shirt died.

Bruce had turned off the movie once he was sure his date was out for the count. He relaxed into the sofa, Clint’s head resting against his shoulder. His body moving more and more until he was finally curled up against Bruce’s side.

The lighting slowly dimmed and Bruce smiled again at the ‘thoughtfulness’ of Tony’s AI.

It felt good. Having friends again, having people he could depend on, and be depended on by. Having someone interested in him again for more than his brain or his brawn.

He yawned himself, wondering why he’d been so cautious about Clint before he fell asleep.

~*~*~

It was a struggle to catch his breath. His heart beating rapidly against his chest, but he smiled when Clint slumped against him and he could feel another heartbeat mimicking his own.

Bruce’s hand petted at the back of Clint’s head. He was thrilled at his normal human response to good sex. Correction: Great Sex! Just normal human response, nothing larger or... greener.

Clint’s head turned. Speech and fingers brushing over Bruce’s skin. “Oh... Fuck... Yeah.”

He chuckled, “Yeah?”

Moving again, as if it took all of Clint’s remaining energy, he propped his chin up and smiled in that self assured way Hawkeye had mastered. “Yeah. I told you didn’t I?”

Bruce rolled his eyes and swatted at the man covering him. “Yeah, _World’s Greatest Marksman always gets his target.”_


End file.
